Evening at the Three Broomsticks
by Amaranthecstasy
Summary: Events that occured the night Quirrel and Voldemort went to the Three Broomsticks and got liquored up! Drunkeness ensues!:D One-shot Inspired by AVPM, A Very Potter Musical X3!


Quirrel shook the snow off the shoulders of his winter robes as the bell rang above the door. His eyes shot around the room nervously as if he thought suddenly everyone would lurch forward to gawp at him contemptuously. They weren't.

"Won't you calm down Quirrel?" A voice came from behind him. Quirrel straightened up.

"I am calm," he stuttered, carefully removing his thick overcoat and hanging it up before making his way into the pub.

Quirrel slowly made his way towards the bar and ordered two Firewhiskeys and after receiving a curious look from the barmaid, sat himself at an empty table in the far corner. He sighed and rubbed his hands, hoping that they were shaking from the cold, not his nerves.

"Quirrel, I believe you're forgetting something,"

"Oh, oh yes – you're right, silly me." The man laughed at himself as he reached back and carefully unwrapped the maroon turban from his head. He neatly parted what was left of his hair as Lord Voldemort stretched and clicked his jaw.

"Would it ever occur to you to fragrance that thing?" Voldemort muttered indignantly, "it's bad enough being stuck to the back of you but being cramped up in there is worse than…oh say… being locked in a cupboard for the majority of your life."

Quirrel inclined his head, "My Lord, don't you like the new Berry Medley shampoo I'm using?" he said, slightly hurt. Voldemort rolled his heavily shadowed eyes,

"I _appreciate_ the gesture but I'm allergic."

"Oh," Quirrel muttered, "that would explain the-"

"The _sneezing_, yes!" Voldemort grumbled, "Not to mention how you always manage to get it in my eyes,"

"Sorry."

The dark lord sighed, relaxing his chin into the folds of Quirrel's hood. "Anyway we came here to get you laid, let us begin our evil plan to devour a delightful young thing." Voldemort licked his lips, his long tongue flicking in time with his animated eyebrows.

"I don't know, my Lord. I-it's been quite a while," Quirrel said, starting to get cold feet as he fingered the handle of his mug.

"Think nothing of it!" Voldemort interrupted, full of fervour, "just get some Firewhiskey in you."

It wasn't long until Quirrel had become completed intoxicated, mostly due to the fact that both men had been drinking into the same body. The sky was dark and the Three Broomsticks had become exceedingly noisy with rowdy customers and Hogwarts school professors all making toasts to each other whilst the snow fell outside. Quirrel and Voldemort were having a wonderful time with two unsuspecting women from the village, who were just as pissed as they were.

"So and then I said to her, 'well sure, we can be together sweetheart but you see because I am trapped in a book it would be somewhat problematic.'" Voldemort laughed as the woman with long brown hair leaned in to him, wobbling slightly in her seat. "I told her if she were to kill her classmates then everything would be peachy and I would take her to Disneyland." His smile quickly faded as his eyes darkened, "that's how I ended up in the toilet, you see. Very sad, sad life I've had." Voldemort sniffed and the woman threw her arms over his head.

"OH you poor thing!" She wailed, sloshing Butterbeer all over the front of a very bewildered Quirrel. Voldemort managed to ease his face out of her grip and turned to whisper to him.

"Quirrel, how's it going?" he hissed deviously. Quirrel who was being mopped up via napkin by his lady companion stumbled over his words,

"It's w-w-wonderful!" He cheered, raising a glass and splashing over the poor girl. "It feels like…ALLLL my inhibitions are _completely_ gone! Poof!"

"Poof," Voldemort agreed, both of them nodded consecutively. "Quirrel would you be so kind…"

Quirrel muttered something unintelligible and raised the half empty mug to Voldemort's lips, he drank slowly to avoid spilling yet more whiskey over the place.

"I have to admit Quirrel," he said, licking the froth from under his nose, "I'm not much interested in this airhead. Not enough evil to satisfy my standards – how are you getting on with your date?"

"Quite well, she's indeed very lovely." Quirrel smiled bashfully as the girl opposite him made a little curtsy and tottered away refill their mugs.

"Then seal the deal, man. This mindless chitchat is beginning to booooore me greatly." Voldemort rolled his eyes glancing down at the woman who had fallen asleep on top of him, (or on Quirrel's back to be precise) and was snoring into her madly swept, beer drenched hair covering most of her face.

"I-I don't know if I can do it, Sir." Quirrel replied, his voice faltering, "I mean, it has been…so long, since I've been with another woman." He twiddled his fingers, feeling the heaviness of the awkward silence and wondered if the Dark Lord had fallen asleep on him.

"My Lor-"

"_Look_." Voldemort stated, his grey eyes wide open again, "you want _me_, to handle it? Shall I just, take caaare of this situation?"

Quirrel bit his lip, clenching his fingers,

"You aren't going to _kill_ them are you?"

Voldemort laughed,

"Quirrel!_ Man_! Even I'm not that evil," he laughed quietly to himself before turning his head again, "okay well, _I am_, but not when I can't even wield my own wand. I'll talk and you just move your mouth to match mine."

Quirrel blushed, "are you sure she won't notice?"

"Pffffftt! If she's as drunk as you then she's not going to mind when you're devouring her face that we both share the same ears."

When the woman came back Quirrel tried his best to keep in time with the incredibly sexual, angry sexual things his master was commanding him to say. Just as he was starting to get the hang of it the brunette sleeping behind him began to stir. Voldemort glanced down at her and smirked,

"hello down there my pretty little thing," he said as she smiled up at him, hair a strew.

"Hello down there," Quirrel mimed, and caught off guard from their previous conversation about Horklump hunting, looked down involuntarily at the girls breasts and blushed violently.

"It's about time you perked up, you're such a load." Voldemort said, Quirrel miming who couldn't seem to stop. The woman opposite him began fuming. "How about you get off and I'll let you have some." Voldemort's eyes darted to the fresh mug of foaming Firewhiskey.

Quirrel's cheeks were roaring red and he strained all he could to make himself say

"How 'bout you get me off and I'll watch you have fun?" His hands shot to his mouth and he spun around instinctively to face his Master but met with the eyes of the tired drunken brunette. Quirrel gasped

"Hellooo there!" Voldemort chuckled, his tongue flailing wildly as the girl screamed at seeing the head attached to the back of Quirrel's body. Quirrel span back stuttering uncontrollably.

"Just _go _Quirrel," Voldemort drawled, smiling as Quirrel hastily stood up, "On…to Hogfarts!" Quirrel cringed as Voldemort twisted his arm, using it to punch the air as he urged them towards the door.

Quirrel threw on his coat and took a glance back to see what Voldemort was laughing about as his eyes laid on the dumbstruck faces of the two women with whom they'd shared company. When the door shut behind him, with stunned eyes the girl on the left looked down at her glass and pushed it away, whilst her friend smiled and slept in Butterbeer on the tabletop.

"Don't worry Quirrel, I'm sure you'll get some next time." Voldemort chuckled as Quirrel tucked the red turban over his head, "You are quite the ladies man you know."

Quirrel blushed a little, pulling his cloak tight around himself as he felt the cold of the wind setting upon them.

"But I can't hold a candle to you, My Lord." He replied, smiling as Voldemort jiggled his jaw to make himself comfortable in the headpiece.

"Of course not!" Voldemort said quickly, "they didn't call me '_Marvelous_ Riddle' for nothing you know."


End file.
